


Samhain

by crimsonherbarium



Series: Wheel of the Year [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Aiden (The Witcher), Campfires, Dom Aiden (The Witcher), Drinking, Established Relationship, Ghost Sex, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Samhain, Seasonal Smut, Shameless Smut, Sharing a Bed, Singing, Sub Lambert (The Witcher), Tenderness, Top Lambert (The Witcher), Wax Play, Wheel of the Year, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:58:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonherbarium/pseuds/crimsonherbarium
Summary: Samhain marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter. On this night, the boundary between worlds is especially thin, and spirits can cross between them freely.This fic is a collection of three smutty one-shots for the holiday, to be posted over the next three weeks.Chapter 1: The Hour of Love:sweet, soft, lovingChapter 2: The Hour of Despair:ghost sexChapter 3: The Hour of Admonition:d/s, waxplay





	1. The Hour of Love

Sweet applewood smoke drifted on the night breeze, billowing upward from bonfires all around to meet the stars above. 

The scent stung Lambert’s nose, though he got used to it after a while. The sound of the festivities taking place in the distance was easier to ignore, everything running together into a low burble of voices and mournful music and the beating of drums. The sound of the water that ran past their campsite trickling down the rocks all but drowned it out.

Lambert was not a religious man, but neither did he begrudge Aiden his own worship. Forefather’s Eve was the sole night of the year that he actively avoided participating in. There were plenty of ghosts in his past, true, but they were of the kind that he was in no hurry to encounter again. Aiden understood this, perhaps better than most, and when Lambert expressed the desire to make camp far away from the nearest settlement on Samhain, he agreed without question. Lambert was grateful. The villagers in this part of Kaedwen certainly knew how to throw a raucous celebration, but good booze could only make up for so much.

The spot they’d chosen to spread out their bedrolls was better than most they’d slept on in recent weeks. Located halfway down a mountainside, it was shielded from the wind by a large boulder and a thick copse of trees. The ground was dry, and had somehow escaped the freeze that had come with the hard frosts a week prior. A stream ran close by, supplying snow melt from higher up in the mountains. Brambles grew on its banks, and on the vines Aiden had found a handful of sweet fall raspberries, spared from inquisitive birds by the bush’s thorns. 

Lambert lay back on his bedroll, tuning out the constant low hum of his medallion against his chest in response to the ambient magic of the festival night, and sucked dark red juice from his thumb. As the night grew deeper, more points of light flared up on the hilltops beneath them. Bonfires, torches, candles, lanterns carved from the rinds of squash and turnips. They paraded across the ground, flickering like distant stars. 

“I still don’t like it, but I’ll admit it’s a beautiful view,” Lambert remarked. 

Aiden smiled as he knelt by the fire and lit the end of a dried bundle of herbs with a whisper of Igni. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

The smoky scent of the incense tickled Lambert’s nose. “Rosemary?”

Aiden hummed. “Rosemary for remembrance,” he said, reciting the mnemonic as if recalling it from the distant past. “Indulge me.”

Lambert shrugged. Aiden blew the flame out and placed the smoldering bundle on a flat rock beside the fire, and then stretched out on the bedroll beside Lambert. They lay there in silence for a while, listening to the sound of distant voices raised in song far below. 

“Never thought I’d say this,” Lambert remarked after a while, “but I’ll be glad to get to Kaer Morhen. Winter’s coming a bit too fast for my liking. I’m tired of waking up freezing my balls off in the middle of the night.”

“If you built the fire higher, it wouldn’t go out.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” Lambert rolled his eyes.

Aiden chuckled. “Or you could just sleep closer to me. I’ll keep you warm.”

“You’ll steal the blankets and then I really _will_ freeze my balls off.”

Aiden laughed openly at that. His golden eyes met Lambert’s and softened. Aiden leaned in and kissed him, still smiling, his lips warm against Lambert’s. Lambert hummed contentedly, bringing one hand up to cup Aiden’s jaw as he sank into the contact. 

“What was that for?” He asked when they broke apart, tracing the line of Aiden’s jaw with his fingertips. 

“Mm. I just love you, I suppose.” Aiden reached up and took Lambert’s hand, fiddling with the silver ring on his finger. “I don’t suppose you have any objections to that?”

“None whatsoever.” Lambert grinned, pulling Aiden so that the other man was straddling his hips. He was warm, clothes steeped in heat from lying closer to the fire. Lambert sighed as Aiden’s weight settled on top of him, sweet and solid and reassuring. The Path took more than it gave, most days. It was hard to believe sometimes that Aiden was still here, his heart beating audibly in his chest. Lambert still sometimes half-expected to wake up alone. For Aiden to one day not return when they were forced to separate temporarily. But return he always did, without fail. If anything, Lambert was usually the one who was late to the rendezvous. 

“What are you thinking about?” Aiden asked, caressing Lambert’s cheek with one hand. 

Lambert pressed a kiss to his knuckle, sliding his own hands up Aiden’s thighs. “Luck, I guess. I’m glad I met you.”

Aiden snorted. “When you met me you almost got your head bashed in.”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten that,” Lambert shot back. “But you did save my life.”

“I’d say the saving was mutual. Couldn’t have taken that troll down by myself.”

“Damn right.” Lambert grinned. “Best five-hundred-crown concussion of my life.”

Aiden laughed, throwing his head back. Lambert’s eyes traced the paths of the scars that ran down his throat and vanished under the collar of his opened shirt. God, he loved the sound of Aiden’s laugh. Loved the curve of his smile, the twinkle in his eye. Loved the warmth of him on cold nights. Loved the way that Aiden reached out for him unconsciously when he rolled over in his sleep. He was everything—everything Lambert had ever wanted, everything he’d never thought he’d have, everything he would have fought tooth and nail to keep. Companionship. Solace. Love, real love, love that Lambert had never known he was capable of feeling for another person. His heart ached in his chest. 

“What are you thinking about?” Aiden murmured, lifting Lambert’s chin with his fingertips. 

“Loving you,” Lambert answered simply, looking up into Aiden’s golden eyes. 

“Is that so?” Aiden leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Lambert’s own, his breath warm against Lambert’s skin. “Perhaps you should get on with it, then.”

Lambert didn’t need any more invitation than that. He pulled Aiden down close against him, one hand on the back of his neck, and kissed him deeply. Warmth and want mingled with the sweet spice of Est Est on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, drinking Aiden in, wishing he could drown in him. 

Aiden’s hand fumbled with the ties on Lambert’s trousers and then slipped past the waistband, palming his already stiffening cock. Lambert gasped into the kiss, feeling Aiden smile against him as he stroked. God, the things he could do with those hands. The things he could do with those lips, flushed with sex and wine, pressed against the Lambert’s neck. Aiden nipped and sucked at the sensitive flesh there and grinned openly at the sound Lambert made in response and the way he thrust up into his hand. 

“Fuck.” 

Lambert sat up, Aiden still straddling him, and made it his mission to divest the other man of every single scrap of clothing in less time than it took a stryga to swallow a man. Aiden laughed at his obvious ferocity, Lambert’s hands made clumsy and stupid by want, and helped him by stripping out of his trousers. Lambert shoved his own down his hips and pulled Aiden back, not bothering to suppress the small, needy sound he made when Aiden’s weight settled astride him once more. 

“God, I want you,” he said, and god, he really did. Golden eyes met golden eyes, burning like embers in the light of the fire. Aiden’s gaze sent a wave of tenderness crashing through him. 

There was no one else. No witcher, nor Aen Seidhe, nor sorceress, nor succubus, that could have ever in a thousand lifetimes made him feel the things that Aiden did. That could have ever made him feel this need, not just for the physical intimacy of the act but also for his love in return. And return it he did, though Lambert would never understand why. Tonight, he didn’t feel like questioning it. He just wanted to drink and fuck and fall asleep in his husband’s arms. And somehow, miraculously, that wasn’t too much to ask. 

The scent of soothing herbs filled Lambert’s nose as Aiden drizzled oil on his fingers, reaching back and coating both himself and Lambert’s cock liberally. Verbena. Celandine. A special blend that Aiden infused himself, in one of his rare alchemical successes. Lambert associated the scent of Celandine so strongly with sex at this point that the mere sight of the yellow flowers was often enough to inconveniently distract him these days. 

A soft smile on his lips, Aiden leaned in and kissed Lambert. Lambert kissed him back, lingering, trying to say with his heart the things he couldn’t adequately convey with words. He could feel Aiden’s, beating solidly in his chest, where their bare skin met. 

Aiden reached back, lining Lambert’s cock up with his body, and slowly sank down onto him. The low moan that escaped his throat was honey on Lambert’s tongue, dark and sweet. God, he loved the sounds Aiden made. God, he loved the shape of his face, the way his brow furrowed ever so slightly, the way his lips parted. 

He slid his hands up the small of Aiden’s back, scarred flesh against scarred palms, feeling the stretch and pull of his muscles. God, he was beautiful. Everything from the subtle curl of chestnut hair that trailed down his chest to the silvery bead of precum at the tip of his cock was beautiful. Lambert moaned as Aiden pushed back against his cock, nearly overwhelmed in the moment by the sensation combined with the sheer force of love he felt for him in that moment. 

Aiden paused when he was fully sheathed, eyes closed, letting out a soft sigh. 

Lambert’s hands trailed to his chest, tracing the shapes of muscles and the twisted lines of scars. He had just as many; they came with the territory. He never gave his own a second thought, save a dash of spare vitriol for the various men and monsters who had left the marks on his skin over the years. But Aiden’s—he loved Aiden’s. They were immutable, unchanging, distinctly _him_. Lambert would know him from a hundred others just by the silvery half-moon mark on his thigh where an arrowhead had once pierced the flesh. He’d know him from a thousand more by the twisted claw marks that cut across his throat and trailed down his chest. 

When Aiden moved against him, it almost caught Lambert by surprise, so lost was he in the shape of him in the warm light of the fire. He moaned, sliding his hands down to grip Aiden’s hips as he rocked slowly against him, feeling the flex and pull of his muscles under the skin. 

God, it felt wonderful—the warmth of Aiden, how _tight_ he was around Lambert’s cock, the slickness of the oil where their bodies met. Lambert thrust in time with the slow, steady pace that Aiden set. Tonight, he wasn’t in any rush. There would be plenty of shitty, flea-ridden beds in seedy roadside taverns for them to fuck themselves senseless in come spring. Tonight there was only the crackle of the fire, and the burble of the stream as it ran swiftly by, and the faint scent of smoke and incense wafting on the breeze from the celebrations taking place far below. 

Aiden kissed him and Lambert lost himself in it, lost himself in the motion of their bodies and the sweet warmth of him and the reassuring weight of the heavy silver band on his finger. His. His and no one else’s. God, he couldn’t wait to fuck Aiden like this in one of the large tower rooms back at Kaer Morhen, with a fire blazing in the grate and an enormous tub of hot water to bathe in when they were done. 

Aiden bit his lip as he rode him, plaintive eyes meeting Lambert’s, his broken-open expression making it clear that Lambert wasn’t the only one overwhelmed in that moment. Lambert grasped Aiden’s cock in his right hand, stroking him steadily in time with his thrusts, and Aiden groaned. 

“Just like that…fuck,” he gasped, his face flushed a deep red. “Gods, Lambert—”

“I love you.” Lambert said it because it was true, and because it was all he could think in that moment, with Aiden looking into his eyes. “I love you,” he repeated, more softly, offering up the words like a prayer. “I love you…”

Aiden’s breath caught in his throat. He shuddered as Lambert stroked him, thrusting into him slowly and steadily, savoring the sensation of Aiden squeezing tight around his cock. 

“Mother Melitele,” Aiden said indistinctly, the rhythm of his hips faltering. “You’re going to make me cum—”

Lambert gazed into his eyes, drinking him in, maintaining his pace. “I love you, Aiden.”

Aiden gasped brokenly as he came, shuddering against Lambert, cum spilling down Lambert’s fingers as he stroked and landing on his stomach like scattered pearls. 

The sight of him so undone combined with the sounds he made and the sensation of his body spasming around Lambert’s cock was too much to bear. Pleasure surged up and carried Lambert away like a flood, sweeping him along on currents of tenderness and sheer affection until he felt like he would drown in it. He cried out as he came, thrusting erratically into Aiden, fingers gripping his hips tightly. 

As the aftershocks faded, Aiden bent down and kissed him once more, holding Lambert’s face with both hands. There was such tenderness there, such patience and affection that Lambert still wasn’t entirely sure he deserved. 

That didn’t matter, though. He melted into the kiss, into the warmth of Aiden, lingering as long as he could. When they finally broke apart, Aiden hummed contentedly, pressing his forehead against Lambert’s and smiling. 

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're coming here from the ending of [Whatsoever a Man Soweth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639895/chapters/44202784), I hope that this soothed the pain a bit. I have two more smutty Samhain stories planned to add to this over the course of November, and then the Wheel of the Year series will wrap up at the end of December with Yule! I hope you enjoyed it. Please do consider leaving me a comment if you did--I love hearing what you thought :)


	2. The Hour of Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠️ Referenced canonical character death in this one! ⚠️
> 
> Please do forgive me, I had to do something ghost-related.

Lambert knelt in front of the large, flat stone, and lit the candle that sat upon it with a whisper of Igni. The scent of burning tallow filled his nose, mingling with the sweet smoke of the incense that drifted on the wind from Ellander’s graveyards in the near distance. He dug his fingers into his thighs, remembering the spoke from Aiden’s pyre spiraling upward into an indifferent night sky. 

Two years. Two years on the Path alone. Two years seeking solace in the bottom of a bottle. Two years sharing a bed with Keira.

She could never replace Aiden, and luckily she understood that. The fact that they fucked occasionally was inconsequential—it was physical need, and nothing more. Lambert harbored affection for her, as much as he was capable of harboring affection for anyone, but what was left of his heart never wanted to love anyone else again.

Lambert hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself here again. He’d always told himself that he couldn’t go back. He still didn’t have the heart to set foot inside Ellander itself, but the need to ascend this hill once more had asserted itself to the front of his mind until he was no longer able to stay away. 

Two years. Two years, and here he knelt on the dying grass, the full harvest moon rising high above him. Samhain. Forefathers’ Eve. Dziady.

He felt like a fool.

His and Aiden’s medallions vibrated in tandem against his chest, as they had since sunrise that morning. The boundary between worlds was thin this night. It was hard for Lambert to believe that there was any sort of afterlife for men like them, but…

Well. Speaking the words into the void couldn’t hurt. Cold stone told no secrets. 

“I miss you,” he said into the darkness, hating the sound of his own voice in his ears. “Gods, Aiden, I miss you every day. Every month that goes by, I feel like I lose another piece of you. The sound of your voice. The way you smelled. The way it felt when you kissed me. It’s all gone, or it will be soon. And when there’s nothing left…” he trailed off, looking into the candle’s flame. “When there’s nothing left, you’ll really be gone, won’t you? It’s like watching you die all over again.”

Lambert swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He’d thought he could do this, but it _hurt_, more than he’d expected it to after all this time. The flesh had knit, but the wounds were still open under the surface. It didn’t take much for them to crack open and bleed anew. 

“I wish I could see you, one last time. I wish I could touch you. I wish the last memory I have of you wasn’t of Jad Karadin putting a sword through your heart.” Lambert blinked, and a tear dropped down his face. 

He reached up to wipe it away angrily, but someone else got there first. 

Lambert stiffened at the sensation of a cold hand caressing his cheek, feline eyes scanning the darkness surrounding him for the presence of another living being and finding none. 

Not a monster. Not a wraith. He would have heard the approach of any other creature from a mile away. No, this was something else. Something different. And though fear or at least suspicion of the unknown should have rightfully been coursing through Lambert’s veins, somehow he wasn’t afraid. There was something familiar in the touch. Something calming. Something tender.

“…Aiden?” he whispered, the wind taking the word from his lips. He felt stupid uttering it, reaching out into the darkness for a single glimmer of hope like a blind man searching a desert for water. But he said it all the same. 

Ghostly fingers traced down his cheek once more, and his breath hitched in his throat. He’d know that touch anywhere. He’d felt it so many times—when he awoke shaking in the middle of the night from dark and twisted dreams; sitting on dried grass by the campfire, looking deep into Aiden’s golden eyes; warm against his skin as they moved against each other in the darkness. 

It wasn’t solid, not really. There was nothing to indicate where Aiden’s spirit was in relation to his own body save a faint shimmer in the air around him. Lambert couldn’t touch him back, not the same way that he could touch a noonwraith or a pesta. He wasn’t a wraith, wasn’t a monster. He was simply _Aiden_, familiar still despite all the lost years and tainted memories and spilled blood between them. 

Cold lips pressed against Lambert’s own, and he leaned into the contact, unquestioning, simply responding in kind. He could feel Aiden’s hand cupping his jaw, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss. Lambert instinctively tried to rest his own palm on Aiden’s chest, but it passed through empty space. 

Right. The trade-off for this one precious moment—to be touched and not to be able to touch in return. Lambert shivered as Aiden’s hands drifted down his chest, raising goose bumps everywhere they brushed his skin. Fingertips trailed down his abdomen, ignoring the armor that should rightfully have formed a barrier between them. They traced the angle of his hips, caressed his thighs, palmed his stiffening cock— 

Lambert swore under his breath, fumbling with the ties on his trousers and shoving them down his hips. The half-touch on his skin was maddening, providing the idea of friction but none of the relief. He took himself in hand and stroked roughly as ghostly lips pressed insistently against his own and an incorporeal hand tangled in his hair. 

Gods, it had been so long. So long without Aiden’s touch. So long without his scent, which Lambert could almost imagine he smelled mingled with the incense that burned on the rock before him. So long without the reassuring presence of him. Lambert had almost forgotten what he looked like. 

He stroked himself, entangled in an ethereal kiss, his breath ragged in his throat. The moment tasted bittersweet on his tongue. Knowing that this was the last time, really the last time, cast strange shadows in his mind. He did his best to ignore them, to give himself over to Aiden’s touch, to allow himself one precious moment of comfort in a lifetime of misfortune. 

It had never taken much, from Aiden. Lambert’s body responded to his touch in ways it had never responded to anyone else’s. That held true even now, a lifetime away, the sensation of Aiden’s hand on his cock overlaid with that of his own callused palm as he jerked himself off in the faint light of the candle. Pleasure prickled his skin, surging through his body like a current, and gods, it was all going to be over so fast, he couldn’t deny himself when it had been so long and he’d been wanting so _badly_— 

He stroked himself faster, breath coming in short grunts, imagining a solid, warmer touch on his cock. Imagining the days when Aiden had been alive, when they had fallen into bed in the nearest tavern together after getting paid for their latest contract and fucked each other senseless. Because, after all, one or both of them might die tomorrow.

Aiden’s lips on his skin. Aiden’s hand on his cock. Aiden’s breath against his neck. The smell of him. The taste of him. The sounds he made when Lambert thrust into him, fingernails digging into Lambert’s back— 

Lambert came with a groan, biting his lip so hard it hurt, hand slowing as cum spilled down his fingers. He forced himself to take a deep breath after a moment and sighed it out, wiping his shaking hands on the grass. 

There was no shimmer in the air. There was no subtle caress against his skin. He gritted his teeth. Had he imagined it? Had his grief-stricken mind fabricated the entire thing? The hum of the medallions against his chest was almost deafening in the sudden silence. He grasped them in his fist, futilely trying to quiet them. 

The candle’s wick gave off a spark, which drifted slowly upward. Lambert watched it float on the breeze, smelling the faintest hint of juniper as it slowly faded and went out.

And feeling the faintest brush of a kiss against his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Samhain, of course I had to write some kind of angsty ghost sex. You can consider this one non-canon to the rest of the series, though. The rest of these are very much an Aiden Lives AU~!


	3. The Hour of Admonition

Lambert sighed through his teeth as Aiden's hands massaged the muscles of his back, working a blend of sweet almond oil infused with lavender and celandine into his skin. Though the experience should have been peaceful, calming even, he couldn't help but feel on edge. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in Aiden's smile tonight. His hands traced down the small of Lambert's back and anticipation thrummed through him like a shock of adrenaline.

This part was always the worst. The waiting. The bracing himself for a blow that inevitably never came. Aiden knew all the ways to exploit his fighter's instincts, all the places to apply pressure to push him to just short of his breaking point. Lambert made a fist against the rumpled sheets, hoping that Aiden wouldn't notice, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had already gotten under his skin.

This inn, located in the mummer's district in the south of Lan Exeter, was far nicer than the ones they usually frequented. Given that Kovir existed in a constant state of grey dampness, there was no shortage of monster nests in need of eradication. The kingdom delivered on its reputation as the land of plenty with hefty rewards on monster contracts, but it also severely lacked in acceptably dry places to make camp at night. With a surplus of gold in their pockets, the witchers had elected to splurge for once, shelling out for an exquisite meal in the tavern below and then a large room upstairs with a sumptuous four-poster bed. 

The Samhain celebrations were still very much in full swing, if the music that drifted in through the cracked window along with the cool night breeze was any indication. Mummers and peasants and fishermen alike paraded through the streets of the city, dressed as ghouls and grave hags and vampires, carrying torches and lanterns carved from gourds. Some of them were even dressed as witchers, though most of those costumes were made more in accordance with the warped view folk tended to have of their kind these days.

Still, this was one night of the year that the two of them didn't stand out, and for that, Lambert was grateful. Any other day the innkeep would have likely turned them away from the door just at the sight of the twin blades on their backs. Tonight, he felt almost normal. Almost human. It was nice to see people’s gazes slide off him. It was nice to be unremarkable. Not a mutant or a monster. Simply a man, divested of his armor and swordbelts, naked and vulnerable in front of the man that he loved.

Aiden's hands vanished, and that was worse than the teasing. Lambert braced himself, shifting slightly on the mattress to accommodate his cock stiffening underneath him, and waited.

And waited.

Aiden's warm breath on the nape of his neck nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Relax," the other man murmured, his voice dark and low in Lambert's ear. "Don't tell me the big bad wolf is scared of someone like me."

"Cats have claws, too," Lambert muttered under his breath.

"Mm." He could hear the smirk in Aiden's voice. "Yes, that we do."

His fingernails scraped down Lambert's back, biting into his skin as Aiden's warm lips pressed to the nape of his neck. Lambert sucked in air through his teeth, shivering slightly. Gods, the anticipation. The agony of knowing that if he asked for it that Aiden would only delay it more. He bit his lip as Aiden kissed his way down the back of his neck, agonizingly soft and tender, the brief whisper of comfort that came before the switch. His breath caught in his throat.

The breeze grew stronger, ghosting across Lambert's bare skin, and the candles on the dresser and bedside table guttered. The bed creaked as Aiden got up, and Lambert could see him retrieving one of the short beeswax pillars in his peripheral vision. He curled his toes as Aiden's solid weight settled down against him once more, straddling his bare thighs.

The first drop of wax against his bare skin was exquisite in all its pain. Lambert hissed as it seared hot and then cooled against his skin. A second followed, and then a third, dripping down from the candle's wick as regularly as the ticking of a clock. 

It was hell not knowing where the next drop was going to land. Sometimes Aiden let them fall in the same place over and over, until they formed a pool of slowly hardening wax in the dip of his spine. Sometimes he let the next drop fall far from the last, somewhere Lambert couldn't have possibly anticipated. 

A droplet kissed the sensitive skin at the juncture of Lambert's neck and his shoulder, and he swore as it burned his skin. Aiden quickly smeared it with his fingertips so it would cool and harden. "Too much?"

"I've had worse." 

That was true. Lambert had indeed had worse, and often, but getting gnawed on by a drowner that had happened to get lucky was different by far from this. Usually, when something was doing its best to hurt Lambert, he was hell-bent on doing at least as much damage to it as it did to him. Here, he had no recourse. He couldn't have hurt Aiden back even if he wanted to. 

Having nowhere to direct his irritation was infuriating. Lambert fisted his hands in the expensive bed sheets, clenching his teeth. Wax cooled and hardened in the chill air, stiff and foreign against his skin. The flesh beneath still prickled and burned though, in a way that needled at his composure. Aiden's weight on top of him was maddening. He wanted friction, wanted to fuck, wanted an outlet for the rising tide of anger and want that roiled in his gut like a vengeful sea. 

The drips stopped. Lambert waited and waited for the next one, but it never came. Instead there were Aiden's slender fingers against his skin, delicately peeling up the edge of a puddle of hardened wax and teasing it free of his skin. Lambert groaned under his breath. 

The process was eased by the oil, though not much. It still hurt as Aiden peeled the wax away—not as much as the initial burning had, but the further insult to already red and sensitive skin was agonizing. Lambert stretched and breathed a sigh of relief when the last of it finally fell away. He felt like a freshly molted endrega, raw and vulnerable, with the carnal desire to sink his teeth into something. At least now that this was over he might have a chance. 

He rolled over and sat up, reaching out to grab Aiden and pull him close, hands roaming down the muscles of his back, his thighs, his ass— 

Aiden gripped him by the wrists and restrained him, a shit-eating grin on his face. "If only it were that easy."

Lambert growled in annoyance. "I want—"

"I don't care." Aiden released his grip. "Get on your knees."

"I'm going to string you up by your ankles," Lambert growled, though he still complied with the order. 

Aiden laughed, getting up and standing over him, lifting his jaw with the tips of his fingers and looking into his eyes. "I'd like to see you try."

_Whoreson._ Lambert didn't dare say it out loud, but it was surely written across his face, plain as day. Not that it mattered. His defiance only ever fed Aiden's exhilaration, made him find that much more satisfaction in the control. 

"I want you to suck me off," Aiden said, dark hunger in his eyes. "And maybe, when you're done, I might have a reward for you."

_Fine._ That was something Lambert could do. He knew Aiden's body almost better than his own, and damn well he should after all this time. He could make him come undone faster than a bruxa could drink a man dry. And he could make it torture if he wanted to. Oh, yes. There would be hell of some sort to pay.

He pressed his lips to the head of Aiden's cock, wrapping his hand around the base, licking away the drop of precum that had already accumulated at the tip. His own cock throbbed between his legs at the taste of him, of saline and velvety skin against his tongue. 

Looking up directly into Aiden's golden eyes, he swallowed him. 

"Mmf—"

Aiden's broken gasp was immensely satisfying to Lambert's ears. He pulled back and did it again, massaging his tongue up the underside of Aiden's cock, stroking with his hand in time with the dips of his head. There was pleasure there for Lambert, though his own cock was aching and neglected, in seeing the effect that the things he did had on Aiden. In the slight furrowing of his brow, the jump of the muscles in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. In the way his groans and indistinct swearing morphed into a near-constant stream of silent prayer on his lips the more he gave in, the more Lambert took him apart. 

Lambert hummed in satisfaction and redoubled his efforts, planting his other hand on Aiden's ass, pulling him closer— 

"Gods, yes—" Aiden's face was flushed deep red, his eyes glazed with desire. He thrust into Lambert's mouth as Lambert swallowed him, a low moan in his throat, cupping Lambert's face with one hand. 

Lambert felt it coming in the tremble of Aiden's thigh, in the squeeze of his fingers on the back of his neck. Aiden cried out as he came, Lambert swallowing him, shaking as he thrust into Lambert's mouth. Lambert pushed past the bitter taste on his tongue. Gods, how he loved him, flushed with sex and broken apart like this. Would he have gotten on his knees for anyone else? 

When at last he pulled away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Aiden fell to his knees in front of him and kissed him ravenously. There was desire on his lips, along with the faint salt of sweat and the memory of spiced wine. Lambert drank him in like he was dying of thirst, desperate for any contact he could get, his cock aching between his thighs. 

He pulled away, gasping for air. "Please," he said raggedly. "I need—"

Aiden's hands were on him before he could even finish articulating it, for which Lambert was grateful. The words felt clumsy as coming out of his mouth. 

Aiden palmed his cock and Lambert's breath caught in his throat. 

"Fuck," he said plaintively, not missing the hint of a whine in his own voice, too lost to even care. He needed it, needed release, so badly that he felt like he might break if denied it any longer. He couldn't wait, couldn't talk, couldn't _think,_ as Aiden stroked him exactly the way he liked it, bringing him inorexably toward the edge. 

As much as he wanted to savor it, to make it last, he couldn't. He needed desperately to cum, his hands shaking, skin prickling unpleasantly from how quickly he was breathing. 

Fuck, if this didn't end soon he might actually pass out— 

No sooner had he had the thought than pleasure ripped through him like black powder flaring up, overstimulating to the point of pain, as he whined and shuddered and spilled down Aiden's fingers. 

He fell back against the polished floorboards, one hand covering his eyes, breathing ragged in his throat. He felt like the world was crashing down around his ears. "Fuck," he managed to gasp after a moment. "Fuck…" 

Aiden was there in an instant, one reassuring hand planted on Lambert's chest, grounding him. "Are you alright?"

Lambert nodded slowly after a moment. "I think so. That was...I don’t know why I feel like this. I’m sorry."

Aiden hummed, smoothing his hands down Lambert's stomach. "Do you want a drink?"

"Yeah." 

"Alright." 

Aiden got to his feet and returned a moment later with a glass of cool water from the pitcher on the dresser. Lambert drained it in a single draught and set it aside, feeling slightly more solid than he had a moment before. 

"Do we have anything stronger?"

Aiden chuckled. "Come get in bed."

Lambert was all too willing to collapse onto the mattress stuffed with down feathers and the sheets that felt as smooth as butter against his scarred and tender skin. Aiden settled in beside him a moment later and pressed a heavy glass bottle into his hands. Lambert plucked the cork from its neck and took a cautious sniff. Rye whiskey. Temerian. He took a draught, letting the liquor wash the taste of sex and the strange sadness that suddenly permeated him from his tongue, and then sighed in relief, passing it back. 

"Thanks."

Aiden took a swig and recorked the bottle, setting it aside. He curled up to Lambert, pulling the blankets up around their shoulders.

"Would you sing for me?" Lambert still felt stupid asking, but gods, he wanted it in that moment. Wanted the sweet honey of Aiden's voice to soothe him into dreamless sleep. 

Aiden smiled softly. He hummed to himself for a moment, finding the melody, and after a moment began to sing. The song was mournful, the kind of melancholy tune that pulled at Lambert's heartstrings. He wrapped his arms around Aiden and closed his eyes, feeling the reverberation of his voice through his chest. 

He couldn't have said when he fell asleep, but he heard Aiden's voice in his dreams that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes Samhain! This piece is one of my favorites I've written of the two of them in a while. I'm weak for dommy Aiden and I just...god, writing this reminded me how much I love the two of them together. I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider leaving me a comment if you did :)
> 
> The last installment of this series will be for Yule and will be posted on 12/22/19! See you then <3


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